The Princess
by MaryandMerlin
Summary: Part 3 of a 4 part saga! SnowWhite!AU Hermione has narrowly avoided death, but it is far from over!


**A/N: So, I have sort of been doing this fic on and off. It currently consists of 3 parts and there will be a 4th, just when I get round to it. I do highly recommend that you read parts one and two from my profile. They are:**

 **The Queen**

 **The Huntsman**

 **Prompts**

 **Monthly One-Shot September:**

 **Pairing: Hermione/Draco**

 **Genre: Drama**

 **Prompt: (word) rudimentary**

 **Sophie's Bookshop:**

 **(AU) Snow White!AU**

 **(object) Poisonous Apple**

 **(location) A forest**

 **Hogwarts's Assignment:**

 **Divination:**

 **Write about a character searching for something important.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything that you recognise!**

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The Princess

A shot rang out, followed by the sharp sound of metal on wood. Splinters erupted and a pale white mark of open flesh marred the tree only slightly to the right of her head. Hermione loosed a breath that she didn't realise she had been holding, but her body remained tense. She stared across the clearing at Regulus, his hand shook violently, the smoking metal contraption still gripped in his raised hand, but he held her gaze. His dark eyes gave nothing away even as his face contorted in agony.

She did not know if he had missed deliberately. She did not know if he still meant to take her life. She did not know what hold, what leverage the Queen had over him, or even why, now, her step-mother should want her dead.

The silence drew on, the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. It felt stupid that her mind should fixate on the burning in her knees, from the prolonged crouching, but it felt in that moment like the worst pain she had ever endured.

"Go."

The word was so soft, so rasped that Hermione wasn't sure that it hadn't simply been a whisper on the breeze but Regulus had closed his eyes tight, and the weapon he held was not raised quite so high. Hermione opened her mouth, startled, questioning sounds pouring forth with no direction or comprehension.

"GO!"

Though her mind was still struggling to catch up, Hermione's body reacted to the order. Her aching knees shot straight and she rose, turning immediately on her heel and fleeing into the dark forest around her.

Behind her, a second shot rang out.

X

Hermione was half hysterical, half crazy by the time she stumbled out of the thick of the forest. She had never been there alone, never strayed from the path and it had not taken her long to get completely lost. Now as she tumbled beyond the tree line, landing hard on bruised knees and scrapped hands she looked less a princess and more a monster. Her hair was ripped from it's plait, wild and unkept with twigs and leaves and a bug or two thrown in, her dress, once beautiful, was now caked in mud, smeared with blood and the hem and sleeves were in tatters.

But that was the least of her worries.

She was a princess, a gently bred young lady with no real knowledge of the outside world. She had been guided and pampered for years to the extent that she barely knew how to feed herself never mind catch and cook something. Her stomach was empty, everything hurt and the adrenaline soaked fear was beginning to drain into a weariness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Where would she go? How would she survive? Had Regulus spared her only for her to starve to death? To be eaten by wild animals, or wander off a cliff in her exhausted state.

Hermione lay there, on the ground, for a few more moments before attempting to gather herself together once more. She pushed herself up off the ground and pushed the nagging hunger and haunting questions to one side. One foot in front of the other, that was all she had to do. She would find food and shelter, she would. She just had to keep positive and keep looking.

Hermione walked, or rather staggered, for a few minutes longer, when her diligence and hope finally paid off. Out of seemingly nowhere, dappled with sunlight, appeared the most charming cottage she had ever seen. Flowers burst from every patch of grass and a gurgling little stream rushed merrily past. The cottage itself was white washed, with big thick beams and a thatched roof.

Her heart leapt at the sight and a feeling of peace and tranquillity stole over her as she rushed for the cottage. She found the door was not locked and Hermione, never having been denied anything before in her life, simply walked in.

Hermione did not care that the cottage was simple and sparse, that the appliances seemed rudimentary at best. She did not register the seven little chairs around the large fireplace, or the seven seats at the old wooden table. She didn't see the seven iron hooks on the wall beside the staircase, or even register that there were seven beds in the single room upstairs. Hermione was so tired, and so relieved, that she simply lay down and fell straight to sleep.

X

It was odd, she found, to wake up surrounded by seven little men, with long white beards and big hats. They looked like children, all wide eyed, but they spoke and acted like adults. It had taken awhile, and been quite surreal, as she sat on the bed and told them all the tale of her dance with death, but they had mostly been understanding, even welcoming.

Hermione had offered to help, to pay her way, though they all seemed too shy to ask a princess to do anything. However, Hermione felt comfortable here and insisted that they show her how to cook and clean so that she might have something to do during the day whilst they were out in the mines.

Albus was obviously the leader, his beard was the longest and Hermione supposed her might be the oldest, though there was no real way of telling. His right-hand man seemed to be a dwarf named Kingsley but other than that there didn't seem to be a hierarchy. Horace, Alastor, Filius and Rubeus all seemed friendly enough, eager to have her there, despite Alastor being more than a little rough around the edges, but there was only one who obviously didn't like her. His name was Aberforth, and Hermione wasn't sure if his problem was with her or life in general, but she decided to just let him get on with it.

It had been nearly a month now, since Hermione had fled the awful fate her once loving stepmother had decided for her. Almost a month since she had come to live with this quirky bunch of little men and she found that she settled into domestic life quite easily. A stew was bubbling away happily on the stove, the dishes were washed, the floor had been swept and she was now arranging some freshly picked flowers in a tankard that she had repurposed as a vase.

Yes, everything was coming along quite swimmingly, when a knock sounded at the door.

Hermione jerked slightly, but she did not react with fear or suspicion. She had an honest, trusting heart and a naivety that was more than dangerous for her health. She smiled, assuming that her little housemates had returned home early and went to open the door for them, but as the small, time worn door swung open it revealed an old crone with a soft smile.

Hermione was momentarily shocked at the sight of another face, she had not seen any one pass by these parts, but she had been raised with impeccable manners and recovered quickly.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh my dear," the crone simpered, limping away from the door, drawing Hermione out into the open as she did so. "I was just passing through, having gotten quite lost in the forest, when I twisted my ankle on a gnarled old root. I was hoping you might spare me a glass of water before I am on my way?"

Hermione started, realising that there was something she could do to help, and rushed back into the cool interior of the cottage. The crone shambled over to a tree stump and sat down, the soft smile still on her time worn face, a wicked glint in her milky eyes. The young, beautiful princess emerged from the cottage, radiance pouring from her, a small earthen cup clutched in one hand. She did not see the sneer that curled the wrinkled face, or the hatred in her shaking fists and by the time Hermione had reached her visitor the woman seemed as harmless as ever.

She took a long sip, slurping loudly. "Well, aren't you so kind," she smiled at the princess, "and so pretty too."

Hermione blushed.

"I would like to repay your kindness, dear girl. A gift."

Hermione raised her hands and shook her head. "Oh, but there is absolutely no need. I am more than happy to offer any assistance I can-"

"Nonsense, I will not hear of you going unrewarded. Please, it would insult me if you denied me the honour."

As Hermione considered, and relented, the woman drew an apple forth from the folds of her cloak. It was a deep, juicy red. Perfectly formed. The skin glinted in the light and Hermione found herself salivating at the mere sight of it. Entranced she reached forward, taking the apple from the old woman. "Well, if you insist," she murmured, distracted. "I suppose it is only fair."

"Yes, it is my dear. Why don't you have a bite?"

Hermione glanced up at the woman, something in her tone struck a chord in her and for the first time uncertainty stirred in her chest. But, for all the world to see, there was nothing amiss. So Hermione accepted the encouraging smile and opened her mouth, drawing the apple closer.

Ignoring the sudden pounding of her heart, and the shiver down her spine despite the sunny day, Hermione took a bite.

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 **Please leave a review, let me know if you want part 4!**

 **Much Love, MaryandMerlin x**


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